Merrill Causes Trouble
by Scrap Cookies
Summary: <html><head></head>Merrill casts a spell on fellow team members - only to turn them into babies!</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Merrill causes trouble**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Don't forget to give me a review while you're at it! Okaythankyoubye!**

Merrill loved Kirkwall. It was an absolutely interesting place, but definitely not the most beautiful. Even so, Kirkwall gave her the freedom she never had. It was ironic. Kirkwall was often referred to as a 'slave settlement', the best bet to find the cheapest elven slave. On the other hand, the Dalish was the only legal place that granted mages the best freedom. Merrill never saw it like that. The Dalish condemned her for her blood magic. She was saved by Hawke and brought to this unfamiliar city.

Elves of all backgrounds lived there. It was called the Elven Alienage. The name sounded negative to Merrill, but she truly liked it there. There weren't many friends she could make, but Hawke visited her from time to time. Varric acted like the big brother she never had. It was like a family, and Merrill liked that.

Although she lived the life of an apostate, it granted her enough freedom to experiment in her own home. She found a scroll of ancient blood magic. How very strange, it seemed to her. Some of the texts were unreadable. They were of old elven descent, and the elven language definitely developed since. The elves were not quite like the dwarves – who treasured every ancestor – and the younger generation of elves did not cherish the old language.

There was one particular section of the scroll that Merrill found interesting. It was that of the Rebirthing Spirit that Merrill developed a keen curiosity in. According to what she may deduce from the script, this spell is powerful blood magic and has the capability of enabling the subject to live a life of eternity. Wouldn't this be perfect? Humans always go on about living forever – and here it is – the ultimate cure for life's limits! Merrill gathered the script and took quick, short steps around Kirkwall, in search of an herbalist.

The spell required complex procedures, as well as rare ingredients. Some of them, she has not even come across! There was a refreshing atmosphere that filled Kirkwall, but mainly Merrill thought it was just her excitement. It felt like spicy, fresh mint filling her lungs, knots twisted in her stomach. She squealed with delight when she received all the required ingredients. The Dalish merchants never had such wonderful inventories of goods. The merchants refused to even step into the Brecillian forest for some iron bark. What wusses, really.

The story doesn't start there. Oh no. If you thought you were about to read a story on Merrill collecting ingredients, you are severely mistaken! Collecting ingredients was a mere catalyst to the story, a trigger even. If you were to ask yourself: alright, now that Merrill's got her ingredients, what now? Performing a spell as such was not so simple. Most spells involved an organism to follow through. Most of the time this 'organism' might be Merrill herself. However, this cannot be the case this time! If something terrible—and I am not suggesting that it may—were to happen, how should Merrill reverse this in a perhaps more vulnerable form? No, Merrill definitely needed someone: a volunteer! You know, just in case…

"How typical! Picking on someone tinier than yourself!" Varric complained.

"Fenris wouldn't talk to me! No one else here would, except for you, Varric!" Merrill explained.

"You know Hawke would."

"Yes, and _if_ something were to happen…?"

"Hah!" Varric snorted. "Alright, Daisy, what do you need me to do?"

Merrill sighed in delight and relief. It would be terrible if Varric refused. He was really the only hope she had. No one else paid much attention to her. People often treated her like a little girl. Hawke would explode in anger if Merrill's spell went haywire. Obviously, it_ wouldn't_! _Most_ of her spells went perfectly. _Most._

"Okay, Varric. I just need you to come over this evening so we can start preparing."

"Not your bedroom, Daisy, I hope? Because that would be forbidden."

"What is?"

"'_Spoke the confused blood mage and she missed the innuendo.'_ Nothing, Daisy. I'll be over at seven."

The dwarf kept his word. He turned up precisely by seven. Merrill had him sat down at the dinner table as she fumbled for the ingredients the herbalist sold her. Merrill squashed the mixture together as instructed by the scroll and Varric shined Bianca. A terrible stench filled the room and Varric's nose crinkled up. It was the smell of rotten peas and dried blood. He sure hoped that he wouldn't need to _drink_ that!

Minutes passed and Varric noticed how Merrill dug for a brush. She dabbed the hairs of the brush into the smooth, creamy mixture. Then, she approached Varric.

"Wait! What _are_ you actually going to do, Daisy?" Varric backed away carefully, his eyes never leaving the brush.

"Varric, I told you! I paint the ancient marks on your face and I speak the ancient words. If things go well, you'll live a life of eternity!"

"Life of eternity, huh? What good does that do me? How will we know that the spell goes successful?"

"It's good, Varric! You won't die of natural causes! We can test it out by having you take a stroll in the sewers. People get sick if they go there. You won't! Even if you do, Anders will be there!"

The idea and its theory sounded sketchy. Merrill's shaky voice wasn't very reassuring either. But it appeared that he had nothing to lose. So the ritual began. Blood was drawn. The soft brush was cold to the touch because of the mixture. Merrill painted thick dashes across Varric's face. The painted on tattoos were definitely elven, but only elves would guess that they were ancient patterns. A damp cloth was pulled over Varric's head. Merrill took a deep breath and spoke the ancient chant. Her pronunciation was probably incorrect, but that didn't seem to matter. Varric's face was glowing with the paint, and his body seemed to begin reforming.

Merrill didn't expect the restructuring of his body. Varric's proportions grew smaller and smaller. His nose was less protruding, and his hair on his chest lessening. When he seemed to have stopped shrinking, Varric was lost in a puddle of his clothes. Merrill peeked from her corner. This was definitely not normal. As she leaned in closer, Varric was barely above the height of her knees. He was perhaps the size of a small sack of potatoes.

"Daisy? Is it over?" A high pitched voice called. "I feel _different_. I _sound_ different."

Merrill tip-toed towards the voice, and cautiously removed the damp cloth over his head. There sat a tiny baby. Young, and soft, but with squinted, suspicious eyes.

"Daisy! You look humongous! Did you grow?"

"No, Varric, you are just tiny!" With that, she showed him to a hand held mirror.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! **

It started to bother Anders very much. Just looking at the both of them gave him the 'bubbles'. That's what it felt like. Bubbles. When it gets too much, the bubbles will float higher and higher, until his head explodes. That would be the part where Justice takes over. He can't have that, so he looked away.

It certainly wasn't the first time and now Anders thinks that Fenris is doing it on purpose. Look at that: Hawke and Fenris being magically absorbed to each other. Then, they would innocently brush against each other, share a moment's eye contact, and quickly take small steps away from each other. It'd go in cycles. Most times, Fenris would glare at Hawke for having touched him, and Hawke would giggle to herself. Disgusting. How does Fenris do that? How does this revolting elf manage to attract Hawke so much? Why would he reject her touching him? If Hawke were to touch Anders, he'd grab her and never let her go! But that was a perverted thought. He'd be fed to the templars personally by Hawke. Oh, but it's nice to imagine her, just for once, not reject him.

The three of them walked for a bit longer. Fenris and Hawke strolled about two feet away from him. They stopped after a while and stood as if waiting for something. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Fenris' cold glare.

"Yes?" Anders raised an eyebrow to challenge that icy stare.

"Nothing…" The elf mumbled, quickly looking away.

Anders simply cannot understand this creature. What's with that creepy stare? 'Nothing'? It cannot be 'nothing'. Then looking away as if it helped his situation? Why would Hawke be attracted to this socially awkward warrior? Anders had more in common with her than this ex-slave. It must be that he was a slave. That must be quite exciting for Hawke. Or not? Well it wouldn—

"Oh, _where is he?"_ Hawke demanded quite loudly, interrupting his thoughts.

"The Hanged Man?" Fenris suggested.

Oh yes, it came back to him now. They were waiting for Varric. Where _is_ that dwarf anyway? Nonetheless, the trio went into the place and searched for him. Varric was not in there. Neither was Isabela – which was strange because she was _always_ there.

Loud crashing noises filled the room. It echoed off the brown walls and sent vibrations through the wooden door.

Then, silence.

It grew very quiet, like all of the noise got sucked into this invisible portal. Then, you could hear the faint breathing again, and the clearing of throats.

"Okay, who did you fuck?" Isabela's calm voice interrupted the silence. Her eyes were wide, and her pupils dilated. Her breathing was controlled, but shaky.

"Oh, for the last time, Isabela: it is _not_ my baby!" Merrill responded, desperate.

"Listen to Daisy here. It's me! Varric!" The baby's lips moved along with the sharp voice that left its soft throat.

"You taught the _thing_ to do that? Fuck, Merrill! That can't be Varric!" Isabela shouted at the blood mage. With that, she left out a sigh of frustration, turned her back and stomped out of the house.

Merrill was almost in tears. She never meant for things to become like _this_. Now, Isabela won't believe her and Varric may never get back to working with Hawke. She needed to turn Varric back to normal. Merrill really needed help. She can't work like this without the support of others. Now Merrill can't even trust herself to do anymore to Varric. What if she killed him this time?

* * *

><p>"I'm sure he's simply forgotten about it. That's all!" Anders encouraged.<p>

Hawke was seriously pissed. No, really! Her face was just about as red as a beet root. Her breathing was obvious, her shoulders lifting and dropping. Her jugular vein was enhanced and it stood out, almost linking to her collar bone. Anders really liked that. He liked that refined structure of hers. He loved the mountainous landscape along her long, slender neck. How often he'd imagined running his fingers along that sharp and beautiful jaw line.

"What are you smiling about?" Hawke demanded to know of Anders.

"What – I –"

"–You think this is very pleasant, do you? Varric has _never_ been late. Something funny is going on here and you _smile_?" She jabbed a finger at his chest. Behind her, Fenris snorted before looking away. _Arrogant elf._

"I'm sorry. It was inappropriate of me." Anders apologized.

Submission seemed to be the key to Hawke accepting him. It proved his _control_ of situations. He can't help getting lost in those beautiful eyes. They glared like daggers at him, but aren't those the most feminine lashes? The deep elegant blue was different to any other. Hers were the colour of the ocean during sunset. Dark blue, but light enough for Anders to see the vibrant colour. Then, those lips—

"—Snap out of it." Fenris told him. "What is with you today, mage?"

"I think it is pointless for us to wait out here for him. Go home, if you have anything better to do. I will schedule another time for us to meet again." Hawke interrupted. She left without another word. Her mind lost in another jungle as she tried to work out where Varric could have gone.

* * *

><p>"Psst! Fenris!" A hushed voice whispered from the bushes.<p>

Fenris had been walking home. It shocked him that the voice knew his name. His fingers reached for his sword, preparing for battle. He's got the keep his guard up, in case the person was one of Danarius' people. The voice sounded like it belonged to a little girl. Nonetheless, it could be another of his masters' trickery.

With each foot cautiously stepping in front of the other, Fenris followed the voice. His eyes were in line to the voice, and his head tilted so one of his ears was facing the aural provocation. He never spoke, because it might give the voice hint as to where he was. As he got closer, he made out that the opposition had short ebony hair. Soon, he made out the eyes, and the head, and the eyes. It was Merrill!

His sword was quickly sheathed and he pushed the branches of the bush away and crouched down in front of her.

"Why are you sitting here?" Fenris questioned. He understood Merrill to be a little strange because she was unaware of human interactions. However, even elves do not greet each other within bushes. Then again, Fenris would not be such a good judge. He couldn't remember his past.

"Is Hawke nearby?" The tiny blood mage ignored his question, her large eyes continued to scan the area from the bush.

"No."

"Oh, she isn't? Lovely!"

"What are you trying to do, Merrill?"

"Fenris, I wanted to bring you to my house." She explained, and then specified, "_alone."_

Fenris' brows were knitted together again, as they often were.

"We cannot be together." He spat out.

"What?" Merrill exclaimed. "No! It is nothing of that sort! There's something in my house, that I want you to see, preferably before Hawke does."

"Oh, great! The blood mage chooses to reveal her latest experiment to a brooding elf!" Varric gave a long sigh. "I need to piss."

As if already used to it, Merrill hurried over and carried Varric from his arms. His infant body was shapeless and without muscles or chest-hair. His hair was much shorter, and he was undressed. Merrill lifted him to the bucket where he relieved himself.

"What..is this?" Fenris slowly asked his question.

"It's Varric. I promise you he is this baby! I just ran a test on him and this happened."

"Yes, blood magic tends to ruin lives." The elf stated bluntly.

"Fenris, I just need you to _borrow_ this flask of Anders'. It looks a bit like this bottle," Merrill indicated a triangular shaped container, "and the solution should be yellowy- orange. _Please?_"

The elf sighed. This was a ridiculous request, but so was the state Varric was in. Fenris wasn't so thrilled to believe that the baby truly was Varric, but it sure _looked_ like him. He didn't want helping this blood mage. He hated blood mages. He wished that all mages were swallowed up by a superior Templar force. But Varric was kind to Fenris. Varric never tried to hurt him, and he treated Fenris like a friend. It'd be unfair if he left him here. He'd be just like Hadriana.

* * *

><p>"Right, so once I've heard news of him, I'll let you know. You should tell me too, if you hear anything of Varric." Hawke said before she stepped out of Ander's room.<p>

Did that really happen? Anders' mind hasn't quite processed the sight of her IN HIS CLINIC! The room smelled like her, that sweet fruity and musky scent. Anders felt like he'd just died and gone to heaven. He was so happy that Hawke came all the way to his clinic, in the middle of the night, just to update him on Varric. Oh, wasn't she so sweet?

Anders decided to use the bathroom then. He truly needed to _relieve_ himself of his _excitement_, but if Hawke knew what impure thoughts Anders had of her, she'd be furious. So, he should not touch himself to dishonor her image. Yes, that sounded morally correct.

**You know I could just take over right?** Justice sniggered at the back of his mind.

_Please stop. You disgust me._

**Hah! As if your thoughts were as clean as you present yourself to be. **

_Justice! Stop it!_

**Have you ever wondered if I liked her too?**

_I don't _like_ her. Please go away now. _

**Because I do, you know. Like her, I mean. Whatever you like, I like. I'm just a bit more passionate about things. **

_You nearly made me kill people, Justice. _

Then Anders heard rattling outside. Someone was in there with them. Justice was listening too. Both could not figure out what was going on. He pulled the door ajar and peeked from the hole. It was Fenris! That little…!

"Just _WHAT_ are you doing here?" Anders stood in front of him.

"You do not threaten me, mage." Fenris retorted.

"What have you taken?"

"Nothing you should be too concerned about."

"I have the right to be concerned about whatever things of mine you touch!"

"Bye." Fenris turned to go, but Anders was quick. He grabbed Fenris by the collar and turned him back around.

"**WHAT did you take, elf?**"

Uh oh, Justice was getting out. Anders squirmed for control of his body, but his nerves did not react to his control. Anders screamed. His body began to shiver as it crouched down. His hands reached for his head as he began to mentally argue with Justice.

When he felt Justice go away, he slowly looked up. Fenris frowned at him.

"You lose control." Fenris finally stated.

"I _try not_ to."

"Try harder." And he left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I feel ecstatic that I have a grand total of two. Haha! Thanks for reading and supporting!**

Fenris wasn't sure how to _accept_ what has happened. He certainly wasn't sanguine about it – though he's generally never optimistic about anything – but Fenris was definitely not consternated either. He's heard rumours of it happening before, this demonic possession coming to life – literally taking over Anders' control. It really was quite dangerous when and real when he saw it with his own eyes, but being Fenris, he never showed much emotion.

It's weakness, Fenris thought, to show any sign of emotion. Man must never reveal his feelings in order to execute any action. For example, if he ever showed a lady his genuine love for her but later found out that he had to kill her to save himself, what would he do? It'd be much easier to fall in love, destroy it personally and try to get over it once his conscience knows it'd be impossible to reignite flames.

But Fenris could never hurt Hawke.

At least, not physically. Could he? He's a monster! His appearance scared people, he always brooded. It'd be a miracle if the best doctors proved him not to be a lachrymose masochist. Then again, Fenris enjoyed ripping hearts out. That'd be sadistic, wouldn't it?

Either way, Fenris figured that the items he'd stolen should probably not be mentioned to Hawke. Fenris had no idea which bottle or container Merrill referred to. Anders' medical cabinet was a mess! All types of potions and things lying around. Fenris decided to bring back five different 'triangular- shaped' containers with the specified colouring Merrill suggested it to be. Would that make him look rapacious?

* * *

><p>Fenris was back to Merrill's home. It was often messy there, but now there is this acrid odour claiming dominance of the tiny residence. Fenris found Merrill feeding Varric. His tiny arms were not exactly strong enough to feed himself, so she had to do it. He noticed that the food was already mashed up into a porridge type texture – probably because Varric had no teeth.<p>

"I – I brought these." Fenris muttered under his breath and lamely raised a bottle of the orange-yellow substance. Merrill turned quickly to face him, apparently unaware of his presence.

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Fenris, but why have you brought so many bottles?" Merrill put the bowl and feeding spoon down to help relieve Fenris of the bottles.

"They look the same to me." Fenris told her. "I don't know if they are different."

"Oh, they are, but it is obviously this one!" Merrill picked out a bottle out of the five, although it had an uncanny appearance to the others. She pulled the bung off the top of the bottle and sniffed it to confirm, "Yes, definitely this one."

Merrill pushed the other bottles away – hiding them in a closet. She shoved the feeding materials to Fenris and hurried away with the remaining container. Feeling a little out of place, Fenris realized he was appointed as the 'feeder'. He scooped small spoons of the mashed food and aimed for Varric's mouth. He failed, and the baby food ended up splattered around Varric's mouth.

"Kid, you are terrible at this!" Varric commented.

"Hey, you are the 'kid' now. Even when you were normal, we were probably not that far apart in age."

Merrill came back with a large wooden bowl and a stirring rod. She placed those on a counter nearby, and quickly took over from Fenris.

"I never thought babies were so incompetent until now." Varric pointed out.

"Oh, Varric. You are probably less than a year old!" Merrill guessed.

She finished feeding him and she wiped his dirty mouth with a clean cloth. Fenris never realized that having kids was such a trouble. Would he ever have kids? Doubtful. He wondered what kind of father he'd make. Probably an unsupportive one. Fenris had such a traumatic life. It'd leave his family catatonic too if he were to drink all the time and throw bottles whenever he gets angry or inimical.

"Something on your mind?" Merrill's eyes stared at his.

Fenris did not say anything.

"You have that look on your face when you are thinking about something. I can tell now." She explained.

"Daisy, Fenris _always_ has that look on his face." Varric stated.

"Do you need me anymore, Merrill?" Fenris turned to look at Merrill.

"Yes. After I add this lovely substance, I might need you to bathe Varric in it while I recite the chant."

"_Bathe?_" Fenris repeated.

"Oh yes, just have him soak in the bowl. I suppose it'd be a tub for Varric."

The two quickly prepared for the ritual. Fenris lifted Varric and plopped him into the now yellowy water. There was a little fussing between Varric and Fenris, but that soon perished.

"Why me?" Fenris suddenly asked Merrill.

"What?" Merrill asked back.

"Why did you ask for my help? Why not Anders? It was his potion you needed."

Merrill sighed.

"Somehow I don't trust Anders. His feelings are uncontrollable – all over the place, even. I feel that he might tell Hawke. You have a better control over things, don't you?" She quietly answered. Then, blood was drawn.

It was like a flash back for Fenris. This whole blood drawing was evil, evil magic. Fenris knew it because his master was perhaps the centre of all evil. Everything about blood magic was just dark and wrong. It felt so odd to be helping Merrill, like helping his own master ruin his life. But this time, he knew, blood magic was used to save Varric's life. Was that justified enough? Fenris didn't know. He never decided the right or wrong of it. He just did it to help a _friend_. Was that considered an expression of his feelings?

The chant was foreign to Fenris. It seemed like Merrill's voice changed when she chanted it. It was obviously still her, but it felt like every word and syllable she uttered, it'd be life-changing. And it was.

Perhaps he was caught up in the moment. As he washed Varric to make sure more of the liquid surrounded his skin, he noticed the yellow almost _glowed._ It was like a spotlight coming out from under the bowl. But then he noticed the colour on his wet hands too. Fenris was enraptured by the ritual. It glowed furiously and the light began to flow around Varric's body. Fenris could not take his eyes off the baby.

It was like the world suddenly became bigger. Everything sounded clearer, and everything looked more foreign and interesting. Then, Varric began growing. He grew and grew until he was the same size as Fenris. The two pairs of eyes looked into each other. Fenris' were emotionless, and Varric's were almost livid with shock.

* * *

><p>"–And this time, his armour shrank with him!" Merrill revealed to Isabela. It was morning and the events of the night before were nightmares. The spell did not work on Varric. He remained a dirty, tiny baby. Fenris shrunk. He was now a baby in the tiniest armour seen. It was as if someone had the armour custom made for him, which Merrill knew did not happen.<p>

So Merrill had to explain Fenris' new form to Isabela. Poor (little) Fenris became a baby too. The substance that Merrill thought would be the next ingredient to fix things was obviously not the right ingredient. It was off. Way off. So off that it actually stripped the rest of the mixture of its magical qualities and did nothing to Varric except stain his skin a little and create a glowing effect for the duration of the chant. Meanwhile, Fenris was exposed to the magical chanting which turn him into a baby. Varric did not change much because he was already in the form of a young infant.

Isabela rubbed her temples. Things were really getting out of hand and she understood how important it was that Hawke does not know about this. It wasn't like no one trusted Hawke, it was that they were already in her debt for all the great things she'd done for them. Merrill absolutely refused to do anything to them now. She thought that she wouldn't touch Varric with magic ever again before, and the minute she thought she had the courage to try again, she messed up – this time involving a person that wanted to help.

"Shit, Merrill." Isabela simply put it.

"Isabela, I don't know what to do." Merrill confided in her.

"As if I do!" Isabela was exasperated. "I don't do magic! I do men…and women."

There was a moment's silence. Isabela had to believe that the baby she saw yesterday was Varric. He disappeared the entire day and hasn't returned since.

"Look, where are they now?" Isabela asked, referring to the infants.

"Well, they were still sleeping when I left the house."

"You left them alone?"

"Well yes?"

* * *

><p>Fenris sulked. He woke up from a terrible nightmare, only to find that it wasn't a nightmare. He was stuck in the form of a baby. He couldn't move his arms too much. They were so heavy. He never remembered his arms being such obstacles. His neck was very stiff. He could only turn a little. His legs were like jelly. He couldn't get up. He was paralysed and stuck on the surface of Merrill's bed.<p>

Varric was still sleeping. He slept soundly, even as an infant. His breathing was loud but he didn't snore. Fenris felt very lonely. He felt a terrible urge to be lifted from this bed and carried somewhere. He wanted to be in the arms of someone – anyone! He was hungry. He wanted food. Fenris wanted to cry.

But he has never cried before! It was weak to show emotions! So why did he really want to cry? Maybe just a little bit. Quiet sobbing, they called it. He used all his strength to crawl to the other side of the bed, far from Varric. Fenris turned his back on him. Tear began to swell up his large eyes. He blinked them, but they were too big to be pushed back into the eye. Drops of his tears fell helplessly onto the fabrics of the bed and Fenris let out a little sob.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I may write a little slower or less these few days due to examinations and moving houses. Thanks for your kind support!**

This was so not funny. For crying out loud, it was summer! The middle of it! Just strolling through the streets would leave Hawke sweating like a mobile waterfall. If Varric were here, he'd say that she's sweating like a _pig_. But you see, pigs don't sweat, Hawke knew that now. Pigs only tumbled in mud as a thermoregulation behavior, if you will.

That's not the point.

The point here was that Varric was not here to argue with her. Today would be the third day that Varric's been missing. What doesn't help was that Fenris had disappeared with him. Isabela never returned to her little territory at the bar either. So that left Hawke with Anders.

_Kill me now_.

It's hard not to think of suicidal methods and other perhaps disturbingly violent ways of ending herself. This journey would never end until they get straight to the answer to their burning question: Where was everybody? At least, that was the question frying Hawke's brain. The question was like an unseen source of heat, radiating through her mind, threatening to burst from her scalp because of all the pressure bubbles her blood would be making.

For Anders, he couldn't really care less. The fact that everyone disappeared was a blessing the Maker had given the mage. This was precious alone time with Hawke. He could gawk at her for all he liked, without worrying that someone might see it. Anders could talk to her, alone. He could even drag Hawke to a dark corner and _do things_ to her that would make Isabela blush! Just look at how close they were right now. Anders could give her a scare, and play 'hide and seek' with her. Then, he would jump out from a wall, grab her, and roll around on the floor in sheer happiness.

That was what 'romance' looked like in Anders' mind.

**You dirty man.**

_Not this again, Justice. _

**I mean it. You want to touch her. **

_Stop, alright? I don't want us to cause trouble again. Last night, that was bad. _

**Hawke already knows about me. **

_I don't really want her to _see_ you. _

**How unfair. You get the chance of frolicking around with her and I don't. **

_Stop! I can see where this is going, and I don't like it! _

**I find it rude that you call me Vengeance in front of her – ruining my image before she got to meet me. **

Anders could feel his temperature rising. This was terrible. Every time he thought of her, Justice would interfere. Even when he was alone with Hawke, Justice would always be watching him. Oh, but Anders hadn't ever touched her yet. Man can dream, can't he?

"ANDERS!" Hawke shouted in his face. Where did a lady like her get such a loud voice? Oh, but it did feel so exciting to be yelled at by her for the first time.

**Her face is red, you idiot. She's mad at you. **

"What is it?" He asked, his head tilting to a side.

"I've been trying to get your attention. Where'd your head go?" Hawke was breathing heavily. Oh, look at that chest!

"I was, uh, troubled." Anders lied.

"Troubled?" Hawke repeated, "By what, exactly, Anders?"

**I could just get out of here, for you, and tell that woman to stop yelling. **

_What? You fancy her!_

**Yeah but she's yelling at me too. **

"Yes, because um…" Anders tried to buy himself some time to think, "I should probably have told you this earlier…"

Hawke's eyes bored into his. Her eyebrows were raised, her face coming closer to his. This was terrible! How could he think up of another lie if her beautiful lips were in his face?

**Tell her about last night.**

_About how you tried to kill Fenris? _

**Exactly. **

"Last night, Fenris came into my clinic." Anders feigned concern.

"Your clinic? Last night? What was he doing there? Did he tell you anything? Was he hurt?" The questions were directed at him like fireballs, one after another, at fast pace. It disturbed Anders that Hawke cared so much for Fenris.

"I think he might have taken something, but he left so quickly. I was, well, overwhelmed."

"Were you hurt, Anders? Did Fenris hurt you?" Hawke took his arm, searching for injuries. Anders' heart sang as her soft skin was pressed against his muscles.

"No, it was just, I was shocked. And, you know, Justice…"

**Thank you for not calling me Vengeance. **

"I didn't know what happened! But when I woke up, Fenris was gone." As Anders said it, Hawke's shoulders relaxed, relieved that Fenris wasn't hurt by Justice.

"Oh thank goodness!" She sighed. Then, she took a step away from him and turned to continue their search for Fenris. "We'd better go look for him. I don't know why he would take anything from your clinic, but perhaps, someone else might know about this. Let's go. I want to find Aveline. Maybe one of her guards saw something."

"I'm sorry I never told you earlier." Anders mumbled.

" 'S alright." She replied before eagerly walking towards the Viscount's Keep. And their distance grew. Anders sighed quietly, and followed her.

Looking her get so worked up about Fenris hurt Anders. That stupid elf never gave her the time of the day. _Why him?_

* * *

><p>"You <em>left<em> two _babies_ alone in your stinking hut?" Isabela's face was laden with disbelief.

"It's not as smelly as yesterday, but—" Merrill reasoned.

With that, the rogue snatched the elf's hand and rushed back to Merrill's house. Merrill couldn't really keep up with the rogue. Isabela was a trained sprinter, and Merrill barely had any physical stamina to keep up with anything.

Running with Isabela reminded Merrill of running with her best friend. Her best friend was a Grey Warden. They ran into a mysterious cave to search for another elf. Things didn't go so well because Tamlen was never found. Merrill always thought that the Warden was in love with Tamlen. She couldn't imagine how depressing it must have been for the Warden. It was tragic when the Warden was killed only months after. She'd sacrificed herself to kill the Archdemon and stop the blight.

In many ways Merrill felt that Hawke reminded her of the Warden.

Merrill's feet were starting to hurt, her knees feeling like they were about to fall off, when Isabela suddenly stopped. Her eyes met with a food stall.

"Babies are meant to be fed, I think." Isabela threw a few silvers into the shop keeper's meaty hands. Her slender fingers reached for some fruits before she turned to Merrill.

* * *

><p>He remembered clearly the very first morning he woke as a baby. Well, in the last two days, that is. It had been disorienting and very awkward because his memory did not serve him well that morning. He was used to it now. The beautiful light from the sun spilled into the house, the enrapturing song from the birds outside sang his eyes awake. Now, all Varric needed was some breakfast.<p>

Daisy would come home soon. She always does. Since he'd become a baby, Merrill spent a lot of time with him. Varric tried to stretch his arms out. He was beginning to have a better grip of his muscles.

Then, he heard it.

He wasn't so sure what it was. It sounded like a dog sniffing at a smelly corner. But just one, sudden sniff. Then, another. This time, it came with a softer exhalation. All quite sudden, but there it was. Varric couldn't hear very well, though. Sure, he could hear it, but it was difficult for him to locate where it was coming from. Are all babies half deaf at this age?

Another sound came from the same source. Now Varric was sure they were sniffles. Yes, quite peculiar.

"Is somebody there?" Varric's new voice called out. Immediately the sniffling stopped. Skeptical and unconvinced, Varric tried to move around. It was difficult to do so; his little arms were lacking energy and strength. Where in heavens did the sound come from? His little arms and knees brought him to a figure about as tiny as he was, but facing away. Of course! Fenris was here since last night!

Varric moved and squirmed his body as fast as he could towards Fenris. His little arm raised with difficulty and plopped heavily on Fenris' shoulder. The little silver head turned at an angle. Varric shifted himself so he was facing Fenris.

The elf's eyes were humongous. His pupils were dilated, and glistening with tears. His tiny nose was pink and his bottom-lip stuck out in a pout. His little shoulders were shaking, and his eyelashes were wet. Oh boy. The most emotionless person Varric knew was now bawling in front of him. Right then. How should he go about comforting him? Was he meant to comfort him? Men just didn't cry on men. Perhaps he should start by patting him on the shoulder.

Pat. Pat.

Then, all of a sudden, Fenris turned to look at him, livid with shock. In a split second, his miniscule arms were flung around Varric's neck, Fenris head pressed onto his small belly. Good lord.

The door swung open then. Light was pouring through the opening, defracting past the two figures that stood in its way. Isabela shut the wooden portal right into the face of the light, shutting it out, though it desperately tried to shine through the tiny crevices.

Isabela went into the bedroom.

"Get the food ready, will you?" The rogue called over her shoulder, her voice barely past a whisper in case the babies were still asleep. Which they weren't. The two were huddled together at the end of the bed. One clinging onto the other. And crying.

"Oh, you poor baby." Isabela cooed as she carried Fenris into her arms. The crying calmed down. It was very comfortable to be in the arms of Isabela. Isabela gave Varric a glare.

"What? I didn't do anything!" Varric insisted.

Merrill came rushing back with two little bowls of food. She gently placed them on the counter so not to spill anything. Varric was lifted from the bed and held on her hip, her arm curled around him. The feeding began. It could be that she's so used to it; Merrill was actually getting good at feeding. Varric believed it had something to do with the inner mother of all women. Yes, that instinct should be natural. Anyhow, Varric enjoyed feeding times. He often felt pampered when fed. Also, there's the burping procedure that followed soon after. That was fun.

Fenris refused to be fed by Isabela. Especially right after his emotional downfall. Fenris was embarrassed by this and to his chagrin, Isabela even offered to wipe his face for him. How disgusting. How weak of him.

"Just get me a wet towel." Fenris said without looking at her. "And put me down."

How fussy. That was what Isabela thought of him. First, he wanted to be carried; now he wants to be a man about this even in such a state. She got him a towel and tried to wipe his own face with it. He failed many times, losing grip of the cloth and letting it fall before picking it up and dropping it again. Isabela sighed and bent down to wipe his face for him. Fenris' protests were muffled by the cloth, his arms waving up and down in protest instead. When she was done with him, she decided to feed him with the bowl of food Merrill left.

But no! Fenris would have none of that! He wanted to feed himself, that little elf.

"Just let her feed you." Varric had told him, but Fenris wouldn't listen. Fenris did not like appearing weak in front of Varric and Isabela. Merrill, he couldn't care less. So Isabela put the bowl in front of the infant and sat back in a wooden chair, her legs crossed as she watched him challengingly.

Fenris acknowledged the fact that everyone was watching him. He mustn't fail now. Wrapping his whole fist around the handle of the spoon, he bent his neck forward and swung the head of the spoon towards him. His lips couldn't reach the mush at first, but after his third trial, he managed to lick it.

_Ew. What was in this?_

Fenris' face was twisted in disgust, but he kept eating. Soon, he dropped the spoon, ignoring his animalistic behavior; he used his bare hands to scoop at the mush. Varric watched, absolutely stunned by his determination, but then he got hungry and kicked at Merrill to remind her of his feeding time.

"Alright. The baby feeds himself." Isabela noted.

"Shut up. You know I'm not technically a baby." Fenris spoke back.

"You sure look like one. One real dirty babe." Isabela lifted Fenris and brought him to the sink where she wiped the goo off of his face.

"How did this stupid armour get on your body? Doesn't it fall off?"

"It shrank." Fenris answered matter-of-factly.

Isabela started to remove the armour. Shocked and bewildered, Fenris started kicking around.

"WHAT are you DOING?" His little voice shrieked.

"Changing you! Babies don't wear armour, alright?" Isabela was getting irritated.

"Fenris, Isabela just wants to get you in a diaper." Merrill explained.

"No." Fenris said firmly.

"Self-conscious elf…" Varric muttered. "I got changed!"

"I'm leaving. If I have any more to do with babies, I won't get any more sex." Frustrated with Fenris, Isabela left.

The room grew quiet. Merrill gave a long sigh, rubbing her temples.

"Alright, well, I don't want to make things worse. Do you need the bathroom? What should I do when you need it?" She finally asked.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**A/N: Hello again, dear readers! It has come to my attention that more people are reading the third chapter than the first two. How is this possible? Please do not skip chapters because they ****ARE**** linked (just in case that is not clear), unless that is how you like it… I hate physics revision. Thank you for supporting me!**

Walking with Hawke in High Town is like talking a stroll through a massive stove. Don't get him wrong, he's got all the hots for Hawke. But, oh Maker, this weather was hell. A good hell, if that were possible. Anders was almost drenched in his own sweat. How very good an impression he must be making on Hawke. Not. His robe was making things worse. It was the heavy kind of fabric, and the feathery shoulder blades were not exactly comfortable in this scorching heat. The skirt of the robe pulled his weight down, and robbed his legs of any breeze they could possibly get. And when did his staff get so heavy? It felt like he was dragging a Chantry pillar around with him. Hawke, on the other hand, did not seem as bothered by the heat.

**I have decided.**

…_Decided what, exactly?_

**That woman is a distraction, she is. **

_Care to… elaborate?_

**I see what she is doing now. I do. She is trying to distract you from your agenda! Those womanly curves are illusions to your mind! For all you know, she **_**could**_** be another spirit in disguise! Stopping you from saving apostates all around!**

_You get more ridiculous each day. Hawke is not a…"spirit". _

**How do YOU know that? **

_She's … She's always in control. _

**She's not exactly tranquil.**

_You are trying to confuse me. Stop it. _

**I don't like her. Stop following her. **

_No. _

**Any being can be possessed, Anders. Not just mages. **

_I know that, but Hawke is not possessed. _

**I'll kill her if I can. **

"No!"

Hearing Anders' tormented voice, Hawke spun quickly around. Her eyes searched Anders'. His were scared and distraught. She could almost make out his pacing heartbeats, threatening to jump out of his chest. Hawke held his wrist, and pulled him to a nearby fountain, where they sat on the edge. The little vapours of the fountain cooled him down, but left him moist.

Anders had never felt so threatened before. He was convinced he has nothing else for this demon to rob of him, but he was mistaken. His mind was consumed. His thoughts fought an emotional struggle within himself. His eyes were focused on the still ground, completely unaware of his surroundings. His pupils were dilated, almost dream like, stoned. When his pulse calmed down, Anders regained full consciousness. He felt the gentle touches of a fabric to his face. He saw Hawke, sat in front of him, wiping his sweat off of his face and neck.

"I'm sorry, Anders," she spoke, her voice was fluid and compassionate, "I'm a jerk, aren't I? I wasn't even aware that you are so exhausted. What kind of leader am I?"

When Anders didn't say anything, she continued, "I know I've been treating you like dirt lately. I shouldn't be. I guess I just," she paused, "just don't know what to do when my friends are disappearing. I'm a shit leader, and I am not trying to gain any sympathy here, but just look at how I mistreat you. That's probably why everyone's leaving. Sick of me, they are. Don't feel like you need reason to – you can go if you like."

**Leave. **

That was the last thing he wanted.

"I'm not leaving you." Anders paused, and when he spoke again, he did so with a smile, "If you thought that you could get rid of me so easily, you're wrong."

Then, Hawke did something completely unexpected: she smiled. And when she smiled, it was as if the world finally made sense. It was the rainbow after endless rain; it was the first sunlight after a night long's shift. It all made sense then, Anders was never going to want to lose her. Not even with Justice in the way. Not even with that stupid elf Fenris in the way. If there was ever a time Anders knew he had grown up and became a man, it was that poignant moment.

* * *

><p>Was it betrayal? It must be. What else could it be? Fenris had never been so upset with himself before. It was like his heart had been replaced with someone else's. He felt emotions he shouldn't be feeling. Like wanting to cry all the time, for example. That was embarrassing.<p>

That afternoon, Fenris and Varric had been napping – like all babies did. The two were happily tucked into their own sides of the bed when a terrible noise woke Fenris up. The loud crash of a clay pot as it descended forcibly onto the floor was decibels beyond Fenris' imaginations. It woke him up immediately and he was so scared, tear began forming at the corners of his eyes. Oh, go ahead, laugh at him. Varric did. For him, it was extremely hilarious. Sure, Varric was a little shaken up too, but he didn't cry. He was already used to having Merrill drop things all the time. Butter fingers, they called it. But it _was_ getting a little annoying. Fenris would cry at the smallest of things! How typical of the brooding pessimist.

Merrill rushed to calm Fenris down of course, and that alone went thirty minutes into Varric's feeding time. He needed to get used to Fenris' fiascos. They were strange too, the elf's antics. First, he's cry or something equivalent. Then, he would demand to not be touched anymore and be let down, where he sulk and fold his arms. How charming. It was a hectic lifestyle and honestly, Varric wanted his life back. Although Merrill feared it, Varric secretly hoped that Hawke would find them. Whenever Hawke sees a problem, she'd solve it. There was nothing she couldn't solve. At least, to Varric there wasn't.

The door creaked and made funny noises. Then, it swung open to reveal Isabela standing with tiny sacks in her hand.

"I figured you needed my help, Merrill." Isabela walked into the house.

"Oh, it's a mess in here. Fenris just finished crying again. I'm glad you came." Merrill thanked her.

Isabela looked around the house clearly for the first time. Her eyes fell on a stack of paper. They were letters dated from the past and the recent. It became clear to her that Merrill never checked her mail. She flipped through the mail, without permission.

"Carver?" Isabela suddenly read out, incredulously. Her eyes shifted to Merrill's with her eyebrows raised, "You and him?"

Merrill blushed, but soon realized something, "Oh no."

"What is it now?"

"He's meant to come over today, I think."

Both the mage and the rogue turned their gazes to the infants. Fenris was giving the bottom half of his face a baby-food facial, and Varric was burying his entire head in his bowl. Carver's going to like to hear an explanation for this one…

* * *

><p>"Darling? Is that you?" Mrs. Hawke called out from where she stood. Mrs. Hawke had been shopping for groceries. Even after hiring kitchen servants, she couldn't quite trust them when it came to shopping for the ingredients. What if they weren't careful enough? What if the grocer had scammed them? Mrs. Hawke wasn't going to risk that!<p>

But Mrs. Hawke wasn't going to risk missing this either! There sat her daughter—Lady Hawke they called her – on a fountain next to a gentleman! How could she not have known her own daughter was courting a man? Mrs. Hawke was very strict about courtship. She needed to inspect the gentleman herself. She can't have her young daughter seeing suitors she didn't like. Oh dear, this one seemed to be a mage, too. Would he turn her grandchildren into frogs, like the tales said?

"Oh, mother…How _nice_ to see you…" Lady Hawke looked uneasy. The young man next to her stood up, however, and kissed Mrs. Hawke's hand.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. Call me Anders." He spoke confidently, but something just wasn't right about this man. Mrs. Hawke wasn't sure what it was, but this man seemed _evil_ almost.

"Hello, _Enders_. What a peculiar name. I sure hope you are not as destructive as the name sounds." She eyed him once-over. After an awkward moment, Lady Hawke broke the silence.

"Don't you have things to do, mother? We were about to go, uh, see a friend!" Her words were fast. Her mother quickly got suspicious, but before she could say anything, her daughter pointed out, "You won't want that fish to go bad will you? It's quite hot out here."

Point taken. Mrs. Hawke eyed the young man again. _Enders_. Well he had better not try anything funny with her lovely daughter. Her glance fell on a strangely shaped prodder clinging on his back. Was that a staff she saw? An apostate!

"Oookay, muthur. Time to go!" Her daughter turned her mother around before she took a better look at Anders. Then, she rapidly spun around and grabbed Anders before running off.

* * *

><p>"No, and I mean no! Babies are just <em>not allowed<em> in the bar!" Isabela protested.

Fenris and Varric were rather entertained by this argument. It'd been going on for half an hour now. Wouldn't Carver like to see them? Varric had never been so sure that he was courting the blood mage, but there you have it. Fenris couldn't quite be bothered about Carver seeing him like this, but he sure didn't want to be shoved into a smelly corner.

"I will really appreciate it. Just this once, can't you take them somewhere else? You can put them in these baskets, and sneak them into the Hanged Man!" Merrill passed her two enclosed containers, joined by a long bamboo pole. Fenris was picked up first, and he growled his baby voice at Merrill's face for touching his lyrium tainted skin. He was quickly plopped into the cushioned basket, and the same was done to Varric in a different basket. Isabela sighed.

"I don't normally do favours for people, alright? You owe me!" Isabela rested the pole on her shoulder, a basket in front of her, and another behind. She left before Carver could arrive.

* * *

><p>"Oh, good evening Hawke." Aveline greeted the warrior, "and Anders."<p>

**Stupid guard woman, it's so obvious the way she notices Hawke more than you. **

_I'm standing _behind_ Hawke. It's only natural that she noticed her first. _

"Hello Aveline. We're sorry about seeing you so late." Then Hawke explained everything: the disappearances, Fenris coming over to the clinic, the whole story. Aveline's intelligent eyes were smothered with concern and suspicion. She stalked to the board where missions and shifts were posted. It was a huge mess on that tiny board alone. The handwriting was illegible to both Anders and Hawke. Paper and parchment stuck out in every corner.

"Darktown…Darktown…This was last night, you say?" Aveline confirmed with Hawke and went back to flipping and thumbing through the bits of writing. Her fingertips stopped and pinched at a tiny piece of writing, her eyes scanned through it twice. "Well here it is. You're going to want to speak with Walter. He's on a night shift tonight, I'm afraid. Perhaps you should meet him tomorrow morning. I will make sure of that."

Hawke's eyebrows lowered with worry. Her eyes lined to the floor and her shoulders dropped slightly. She looked up at Aveline again, who was still scanning through the same note, as if answers were on the face of that sheet. Hawke thanked her and wished her goodnight.

Hawke took Anders with her outside. They were greeted by the night sky. How beautiful it was, that night. A million stars multiplying on the dark surface. The cold wind snaked past Hawke's shoulders and she shivered as she was reminded of the time and place.

"I'll be here again in the morning, Anders." She told him.

"I will too." Anders nodded. They looked at each other silently for a split second. Their eyes were searching each others' as if to find something. Her bright eyes were almost dull for once. They were not as confident and happy as they used to be. Her usually electric blue reflected a melancholic sadness inside her.

'Well, okay then, goodnight." Hawke waved before she turned to leave. Anders quickly grabbed her free hand, swaying at her side. She raised her eyebrows at him. Anders' cheeks blushed a furious red, realizing what he'd done, but he hoped she wouldn't see it under this dark sky.

"Um, please let me walk you home, Hawke. Call it paranoia if you will, but I don't think it safe for a young lady like yourself to be walking home so late into the night. What, with Varric and Fenris missing." He cleared his throat, "It'd be quite despicable should a man like me let a woman stroll into darkness by herself."

Hawke chuckled.

"I can look after myself, thank you." She reassured him.

"I trust that, but I can't trust the creepers of the night."

"But you live quite far. I do have a spare room since Carver does not live with us anymore."

**FOOL WOMAN! Don't listen to her, Anders! She will rob you of your dignity! Decline it now!**

_We won't be sharing the same bed, Justice._

**Oh, but she could very well sneak into your room and into your bed and KILL YOU!**

_She's not like that. _

**You don't know that, you fool! Quick, take your staff out now and kill her!**

_I think I quite like her invitation._

**NO! Don't! Stop! Anders, listen to me—**

"If you really don't mind, I'd like that. It'd give me peace of the mind knowing that you are close by and _less likely_ to disappear." Anders smiled. Hawke returned the gesture, but shivered at the brushing of the cold night wind. Noticing this, Anders pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. For once, Hawke did not object to his approaches.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**A/N: Thanks for reading!**

She hoped and prayed that no one would guess. People stared at the baskets a little too long. Did they know Fenris and Varric were in there? Isabela was never self-conscious. She knew she was an absolute babe, and men would go to all lengths to please her. But this was a different situation. People were not meant to, at least she didn't think so, find out about Fenris or Varric. Not in this state, definitely. People that didn't know her so well would simply assume the babies to be the result of her sexual activities. Isabela shouldn't be in this position. She hated feeling threatened or weaker than those around her. Why was she even doing a favour for Merrill? Was it empathy? Sympathy? How very unusual of her to help Merrill.

To her, the blood mage was always at extremes. She was either too dangerous, or too pathetic to deal with. Isabela could always bet that Merrill would be the one to ask her the dumbest question of the day, similarly she could bet Merrill to be the one to deal the highest amount of damage. Isabela loved to show off her supremacy in armed combat. Most people could not react fast enough to Isabela's swift, but fatal hits. However, everyone would be affected if blood magic came to play. Merrill seemed harmless enough however. If asked to describe Merrill in a word, 'pixie' often comes to mind.

Was it just Isabela or were the baskets getting heavier? The weight seemed to be keeping Isabela quite unbalanced. Given a few more seconds to analyze, it appeared that Varric was swaying his basket on purpose. He'd love to agitate Isabela, now wouldn't he?

It wasn't long until Isabela's eyes were fixed on the familiar structure of the Hanged Man. Her nose was filled with the sweet smell of alcohol. Her ears listened to the music of drunkards singing. Most would be disoriented by this disturbing scenario, but not Isabela. This was her _home._ Her room never saw guests. It was further back in the Hanged Man. Isabela often spoke with her 'guests' at the bar, unless they wanted to get to know each other _better._

She lowered the pole until the baskets touched the cold floor of her room. It didn't quite bother her that the place was acrid; the smell on her sheets was evidence of her recent adventures. Isabela lifted the lids on both baskets and carried each baby to the soft surface of her bed.

* * *

><p>"Y'knw, y' alright, Issy." Varric's words were slurred.<p>

Trust Isabela to feed the child with alcohol. It was elven wine. Quite rare and rather different from the rest. It was a gift from a friend, but Isabela had only ever tasted it once. It was far too thick and sweet for her liking. She kept it in a room untouched for some time, never knowing what to do with it. Varric pretty much lived on alcohol. She recalled Fenris to be a bit of a drinker, from the stories Hawke told her.

Oh yes. Stories from Hawke. How she would read to him every night. How he would try to read himself. How they would share their thoughts on the characters. Simply knowing that the two spent so much time together was a little sickening for Isabela. Of course, she was a free woman, and so was Hawke. Freedom was something she should cherish and not try to strip Hawke of. Jealousy was a game Isabela loved to play. Fenris was not an object and certainly Isabela would learn to share.

* * *

><p>"You're back early!" Merrill squealed as she saw Carver enter the house. He didn't change much.<p>

"I hope I am not in your way?" His sweet voice rang through her ears. It was good to hear it again after not seeing him for weeks. Merrill missed him very much, but that certainly wasn't to say that she was any more interested in him.

"No, definitely not! How have you been, Carver?"

"Good. It's been refreshing being a Templar. People don't always compare me to my sister." His eyes were hooded by his brows as he was reminded of harsher times.

"I would never compare the two of you." Merrill offered.

"My sister would never trust me. She turned me down and told me I couldn't join the expedition. I guess, that was what really got me thinking about where I stand in society. I couldn't do anything without asking her. I shouldn't need permission for the things I do, should I?"

"Carver, maybe Hawke just wanted to protect you."

"Protect me? I am grown up, Merrill. I am no longer the little brother that needs protection. And look at how everyone calls her by our family name! I'm a Hawke too, does anyone call me that? No! Do you even know what her first name is, Merrill?"

"I suppose I don't quite know what to say. Even if I did, well, it may make things worse."

"You don't know it." Carver's realization was shocking to him. "You don't know her name."

"Hawke's?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, stop that! Why does she get to be acknowledged by our family name and I don't?"

* * *

><p>The sky had fallen asleep as the bright face of the moon rose above her audience. The city was silent and the night's breeze was chilly. Crickets called for each other and others buzzed around whatever street lamp they may find. It may have been summer, but nights have often been quite the same – cold and lonely.<p>

Hawke found herself tucked in quite nicely under Anders' arm. Her head rested on his upper chest and his hand found her waist as he walked her home. She should be terrified. She should be running away from his approaches. Yet, his touch was warm and welcoming. Hawke didn't fancy Anders in that way. She'd really hate for him to think that she did. Did he think that already? Why couldn't she just leave his body and start leading the way? Hawke had always been the leader. She would take her team to missions and places she didn't even know. Now she was heading home in the arms of a mage. Mind you, he was a mage clearly possessed by a demon. This was hardly normal, so why does it feel so natural? It was as if that left part of his body was specially made for Hawke to lean on. As if she needed support.

Anders cleared his throat.

"So, will your mother be waiting for you?" He nervously questioned. He remembered exactly how much Hawke's mother had despised him.

"I imagine she will be, or she could just be sleeping in her room." Hawke shifted herself a little so she could tilt her head to look at him.

"Does Carver not live with you anymore?"

"He—Carver is with the Templars. He seems—happier."

"I thought anybody would prefer to be with their family."

"Not Carver. He'll try to get as far away from me as possible. He doesn't like the way I –overdo things. I can be overprotective of him especially since – since Bethany."

Sensing awkwardness in their conversation, Anders changed the topic.

"Carver and Bethany. What's your first name? I never knew."

Hawke mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Anders lowered his head so that his ear was right next to her cheek.

"It's – it's not exactly a cool name, alright. No laughing." Hawke gave a long sigh.

"Oh, it can't be too bad. What is it?" Anders continued prodding. The couple was nearly at Hawke's mansion. It wouldn't be too far off now.

"Ma—ry." Hawke pronounced slowly, the first part of her name sounding almost like a sheep's calling. Her eyes darted to look at Anders, anticipating his laughter. His lips pulled into a little smile. But he did not say anything.

"I know, I know. Not even Martha or Margaret. Just Mary. How creative."

"Me and Mary." Anders spoke to himself. "Mary and me. Me, Mary. Mary, me."

After realizing what he'd said, Anders blushed a deep scarlet. Hawke's face was turned away so her expression couldn't be read. A moment later, Anders cleared his throat again.

"Who else knows about this—apart from your family and me?"

"I think Fenris knows."

"Oh."

* * *

><p>" 'Take me,' she—she screamed, 'you big love monkey!' " Fenris' little voice read out loud from the book Isabela passed him. "Isabela, this is an erotic novel."<p>

"Your point?" Her neatly groomed eyebrow lifted in a curved arc. From the other side of the room, Varric snored loudly. His drunken body had collapsed as a result of heavy drinking. It must be quite a sight for those who did not know of their story. Babies in Isabela's room! Not just babies, but infants who drank incessant amounts of alcohol and read erotic novels.

"Isabela, I don't really want to read anymore of this. It is quite—disturbing."

"You just think bondage is disturbing because you have not done it before."

Fenris frowned at her, disgusted and unimpressed.

"Oh, _please_ as if you don't grab her tits and arse after she reads you these bedtime stories."

"Actually," Fenris said matter-of-factly, "we are not romantically involved, and she doesn't do the reading. I do. She only reads when I can't."

Isabela roared with laughter. "That's what they all say, Fenris."

"Well believe what you will, but I maintain that the bond between Hawke and me is neutral."

"Alright, it's not really as funny now. What is it that you like about her?"

"What? I–" Fenris began.

"Her legs?" Isabela suggested with a mischievous smile.

"No. Stop it, I don't think of her that way."

"Her bum? They are rather _out there_, don't you think?"

"Her what?"

"Oh, I see!" Isabela squealed, "You are a titty man!"

"Oh, do stop it, Isabela. Whatever you can come up with, it doesn't matter! I am a baby now, and I can never be with her this way."

* * *

><p>"Do calm down, Carver. Oh, I don't like seeing you like this!" Merrill's fingers fidgeted in her hands. Carver became silent. His heavy breathing was irregular, and each exhalation vented out the anger bubbled up inside him. Carver sat heavily on a wooden chair by the table. His face had been as red as a ripe tomato, but had later cooled to his normal skin colour. Merrill hurried away to prepare tea for him.<p>

Something caught Carver's attention. It was a terrible smell but one he was not familiar with. It really smelled odd and peculiar. He rose from his seat slowly, catching whiffs of the scent. It came from the bedroom, and Carver went to inspect it.

He was in the bedroom. His eyes darted from left to right and from above and down. His hands flipped things, checking underneath and over. Then, the most ridiculous object caught his eye. What in heaven's was a dirtied diaper doing in Merrill's bedroom?

* * *

><p>Hawke and Anders had finally reached the mansion. Hawke brought Anders into her home and they quietly went up the stairs. She looked around before pulling Anders to her younger brother's bedroom. Carver had never used it. It was decorated for him, but no one has used it before. Still, some of his clothes were hung in the wardrobe, the ones that Carver did not take with him. Hawke found a pair of sleeping pants that seemed to fit Anders.<p>

"I think this should fit, Anders." Hawke noted softly, her hands holding the garment to Anders' waist. "Might be a little long for you, I hope you don't mind."

"It's fine. Thank you." Anders looked distant as he thanked her.

"Is something the matter?" Hawke asked him, her eyes gazing into his as if to search for answers.

"No, it's just – I mean – oh, never mind." Anders looked away.

"Oh come on. I just told you my first name. You can trust me." Hawke smiled at him encouragingly.

"It's going to sound petty."

"Is it Justice?"

"No, well I mean yes, he is a problem. Justice is always going to be a problem. I'm just wondering a little."

"About?" Hawke encouraged again.

"This thing with Fenris. Are you…?" Anders trailed off, hoping Hawke would get the message.

"Am I…what? Am I his master? His mother?"

"His lover?"

"Ah. Well, no. There isn't much boat-rocking with me and Fenris aboard. I just help him in ways he has yet to learn." As Hawke said that, she couldn't help but wonder if she meant all of it. Really? Was there really nothing going on between her and Fenris?

Anders was relieved to hear that. He smiled again at Hawke. There was a moment of silence before the two noticed the awkward grey garments Anders was clutching onto. Hawke released him and bade him goodnight.

* * *

><p>"Merrill, what is this?" Carver pointed at the dirtied diaper as she came with the tea.<p>

"Well, uh, it's –" Merrill was at a loss for words. What could she say? She was constipated. She could say that. It'd buy her more time. Merrill wasn't exactly thrilled about telling Carver anything about Varric and Fenris. Who knows? He might go running to Hawke this time.

"Merrill, if you're thinking of trying to tell me that those diapers belong to you, think again. I won't buy it." It was like Carver had just read her mind. His expression-less face remained nonchalant.

"Well, um, you see Isabela came to visit today…" Merrill tried.

"And you were so excited you dirtied a diaper. Try again."

Merrill remained silent.

"Look, Merrill," Carver put an arm around her, "You don't have to lie to me. It's alright. I'll listen to whatever it is. Unless you are obviously lying."

"Varric and Fenris turned into babies." Merrill spoke so quickly it took Carver a while to figure out what she was saying.

"Merrill, just stop alright. If you don't want to tell me, it's fine. Just say so. You don't have to lie so blatantly." Carver spoke through his teeth.

"No, I am not lying!"

"Then where are they, may I ask?"

"At the Hanged Man…"

"Oh, that's rich. Lie after lie. What have you become since I left?"

"Carver please listen—"

"NO! I will NOT listen to anymore of your incessant LIES!" Carver shouted at her before leaving her house and slamming the door.


End file.
